


Weapons of Fate

by hunters_retreat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester UST, Dubious Consent, Inspired by a Movie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:38:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester is a nobody.  His job is a joke, his girlfriend is cheating on him, and even his name isn't real.  He's just some orphan kid that got stuck with a dead kid's name.  What happens when Sam Winchester's real family shows up though?  Will they believe Sam, that it was just some sort of mistake?  Or will Sam find out the joke is really on him?  Does he really have a family?  And if this is family, what the hell has he gotten himself into?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weapons of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to smidgeson again for the amazing beta work, especially when I sent the complete story last minute! You are amazing! This story was written for the spn_cinema challenge on live journal, from the movie Wanted.

 

 

Sam stared at the wall ahead of him; fucking cubicle after cubicle if he raised his head to look.  They were the cheap cubicles too, with short walls that he actually could see over if he chose to raise his head and un-stoop his shoulders.  It was a joke, a huge cosmic joke that everyone else was laughing about.  Except him.  He let out a deep sigh as he caught Jason’s eye before ducking his head back down.

His life was a fucking joke.

“Shouldn’t you be on the phone, Winchester?” his supervisor’s voice bellowed from across the way.  Jason Beverly was a waste of air, a man who defined his own superiority by how filthy he could make everyone around him feel.  Sam couldn’t help but cringe.  He was just a bully and Sam knew how to take care of bullies, but the economy was down and it had taken Sam six months to find this job after the doctors had given him the go ahead.  He needed the job, needed the money, and he needed to prove to himself he could do it.

Fucking law school.

He’d had a good life once.  Even if he was a foster kid - too stubborn to hold his tongue and get himself adopted - he’d managed to get good grades and keep most of his trouble off his official records.  He was smart and getting a scholarship to college hadn’t been much of a stretch, but he’d worked hard to be better than that until his grades and personal recommendations were good enough to get him a full ride to Stanford University. 

He met Jessica right away and he’d never thought he could be happier.  By his sophomore year they’d found an apartment together just off campus.  By the time Jess was finishing up her psych degree, he was ready to pop the question.   Law school was in the bag, his LSAT scores were off the charts and the interview had gone well enough that he walked out knowing he would probably get a full scholarship there too.

Fucking finals.

There was no reason to think it would happen to him, but there he was, trying to prepare for his finals when the panic attacks began.  It only took three months for his anxiety to become second nature.  Just the thought of returning to school to finish his last semester of classes sent his heart racing and he’d tried four times to take forms down to campus to re-enroll before he’d given up actually making it there.  He’d made it as far as the car, hands shaking and knees weak, before he’d had to grab the plastic bottle from his jacket pocket and swallow his pills dry just to be able to make it back into the apartment.

Almost a year later and his life was a complete farce.  It was a never ending cycle of pain and humiliation, a girlfriend who didn’t respect him anymore, a frat buddy who was –if every indication was true - banging said girlfriend, and a brainless job that left him edgy and defensive as panic attacks loomed around every corner.  Especially with his supervisor taking every chance he could to publicly humiliate him.

Sam picked up the phone and ducked his head, finding the next number on his directory to call.  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before someone answered on the other line.  The voice sounded sweet and bright, and part of Sam cringed as his sales speech turned her voice into - like everything else in his life - a cold dull gray.

**

“It’s not like I can do this on my own, Sam.  I know you’ve been trying baby, but I think if you just talked to Matt he could really help you out.”

She kept going and all Sam heard was _blah blah blah, Matt, blah blah blah, banging him whenever he says he has a lunch meeting, blah blah blah, better than you, blah blah blah, should have dumped your ass and shacked up with him, blah blah blah._

It was all true and Sam just closed his eyes and let it all fall away.  He had one happy thing, one happy memory that helped him get away from it all.  He tried not to use it often, mostly because it was really pathetic.  He was a foster kid, with no idea of who he was or how he’d ended up where he did.  The name, Sam Winchester probably wasn’t even real since the only Sam Winchester born in the state at the right time was dead in a house fire when he was 6 months old.  Still, if he closed his eyes he could feel someone strong holding onto him, someone leaning over him to press a sloppy kiss to his forehead, and eyes the color of spring grass looking down at him.  In that moment, in that one imaginary moment in his head, he was safe and loved.  

_Blah blah blah, better job than you, blah blah blah, should have known you wouldn’t make it after you left school, blah blah blah, mom was right, blah blah blah._

He let out a deep sigh and smiled, green eyes still smiling above him.

**

Matt nudged Sam’s shoulder as they sat at the bar, Jess and the rest of their friends at the table.  “Man, Jess looks hot tonight.  Don’t know how you let her out of the house like that.  If I had a girl like that I’d never leave the bedroom.”

Sam sipped his beer as he waited for the bartender to come back with Jess’s martini, sour apple of course because she’d read about it in some magazine somewhere.  He tried not to think about the fact that he’d stayed late at work and barely got home in time to pick Jess up before they were late at the bar.  He tried not to think about the fact that the apartment smelled like sex and Jess was opening the windows to air it out before he got there.  He tried not to think about the fact that Matt kept a secret stash of Jess’s underwear in the bottom right hand drawer of his desk, stolen from her every time they had a ‘lunch meeting’.

Sam shrugged.  “Yeah, well my girl wants to party all the time.”

Great.  Now his life sucked _and_ that song was stuck in his head. 

Matt took his drink and headed over to Jess and the others, Jess wrapping her fingers around his arm to pull him in close enough to whisper in his ear.  Jesus, they weren’t even subtle about it.  He started to turn away but found himself looking at a man across the room who was staring right back.  He was older than Sam by a good twenty years, but he was fit and trim, dark hair and salt and pepper beard making him look a bit roguish.  His eyes were hard though, his lips pulled into a thin, tight line, and his focus was so intently on Sam that he felt his heart racing again.

“I would love to tell you a bedtime story.”

Sam turned quickly as he felt a hand on his shoulder and found himself looking up at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.  Jade eyes smiled down at him and full, lush lips were pulled up at the corners in a sexy smile.  Sam had never kidded himself about his preferences, and while he might have been keeping his bisexuality in hiding because of his future career as a lawyer, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to pass this guy up even when that was still his promising future.  This guy was like an angel of fate, so beautiful it hurt to look at him.

“Excuse me?” Sam said, because he really must have misheard him.

“Sam, who’s your friend?” Jess asked as she walked up.  She pressing her arm in close to Sam but even as she did he watched the way her breasts pressed against the back of the guys arm and he wanted to jerk away from all the points where Jessica’s body touched his.  The green eyes man simple glanced at her for a second before looking back at Sam. 

“I said, I’d love to tell you a bedtime story, only there’s one problem.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked as Jessica gaped.  The guy was completely ignoring her and Sam smiled lightly at that.  She was the hottest girl in the bar without a doubt, and she knew it, but she paled in comparison to the man talking to Sam.

“We aren’t in bed yet.  I’m close by.  What do you say we remedy that?”

“What the hell?  This is my boyfriend-”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Sam found himself saying.  He didn’t know what was compelling him but he couldn’t take it anymore.  Jess was standing there a minute away from throwing herself at the guy, moments after she’d been whispering in Matt’s ear, and the guy couldn’t care less about her. 

The guy stood up from his bar stool and offered Sam his hand.  Sam looked at it for a minute and realized that yes he wanted to do this.  Fuck, yes he _was_ doing this.  He took the guy’s hand and smiled over his shoulder at his girlfriend.  “Don’t wait up,” he said, and then headed out with the other guy’s hand placed over his lower back. 

Outside, Sam realized a few things.  The first was that the guy was a few inches shorter than he was.  The second was that he didn’t have a fucking clue what to do now.  The third was that he didn’t even know the guy’s name.

“Um, so, I’m Sam,” he said softly as the guy brought him over to a classic red convertible mustang.  “Nice car,” he added as the guy opened the door for him.

“It’s not my baby, but it’ll do.”  The guy turned his smile on Sam then and he felt his breath catch.  “Nice to meet you Sam.  I’m Dean.”

Dean closed the door between them, cutting off the conversation and Sam was alright with that.  His heart was racing but in a good way this time and it’d been a long while since he’d felt like that.  He knew it was probably the most stupid thing he’d ever done, getting into the car with this stranger, but he didn’t feel scared at all.  He felt free.

The guy got in beside him and they pulled out just as Sam looked back and caught sight of the guy from earlier, his face a mask of anger.  Sam gulped against the tremor he felt at the man’s eyes and let out a deep breath.

“You alright, Sammy?”  Dean asked, his hand reaching out lightly to pat at Sam’s knee.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam answered softly.  He didn’t say anything else though and after a few minutes Dean turned on the radio to a classic rock station, singing lightly under his breath as he drove.

They ended up at a warehouse a couple miles away, one of the newly refurbished - looks so modern and sleek and so damn expensive that you couldn’t afford it unless you were a movie star - places.  They got out of the car in silence and stayed that way as they rode the elevator up to the top floor. 

Dean opened the door and walked in, dropping his black leather jacket onto the large white couch that sat on the edge of the living room.  Glass windows surrounded the place, but there was a dark film that Sam thought might keep people from seeing inside.  It gave the outside world a darker look, but it didn’t detract from the beauty of the view. 

“Come on, Sammy, think you’re a little overdue on that bedtime story.”

Sam looked away from the window to see Dean across the large, open apartment.  There were no doors except on the back wall, the living room, kitchen, dining room, and bedroom all open to another.  The front door opening into the living room which merged into the dining area.  To the left of that was  a long kitchen island counter that separated the dining area from the kitchen.  And in the back corner, past the rest were four columns that led up to a large platform.  A massive bed was centered on the platform.   The only closed off spaces in the room were the bathroom and closet doors just off either side of the platform.  Dark curtains hung from the columns and he could tell it would give a little privacy in the bedroom area if Dean wanted it, but they were pulled back and Sam couldn’t do anything but watch as Dean pulled his shirt up over his head, dropping it irreverently on the ground at his feet.

When Dean held his hand out, Sam found himself moving forward. 

“I don’t do this,” he admitted as Dean took his hand and pulled him up the three steps to the top of the platform. 

“You don’t get undressed?” Dean asked as he began to unbutton Sam’s shirt.

“I don’t cheat.  I … I don’t go home with strange men.”

Dean smirked at him as he pushed his shirt off his shoulders.  “I’m not strange, though I do wonder about you.  At the bar with that bitch?  Watching her hang off that guy?”  Dean leaned in, letting his lips trace the skin just below Sam’s ear and Sam couldn’t stop the moan that left his lips.  “You might be the strange one, but I’m willing to take my chances.  I could barely keep my hands to myself back there,” he said, pulling the button of Sam’s jeans open and sliding the zipper down, the gentle pressure on his cock was a slow tease that made Sam sweat.

“Dean,” he gasped.

He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes but then Dean’s lips were on his and it was the sweetest thing he’d ever felt.  He didn’t think about what he was doing, but pulled Dean in, hands gripping at the back of his jeans to keep him close as he licked at the seam of Dean’s lips.  Dean moaned into it and Sam could feel Dean’s fingers sliding under his waistband, pushing the fabric of his boxers and jeans down off his waist.

Dean pulled back just enough to drag his lips down Sam’s neck.  He trailed over his collarbone and down his chest as his hands worked Sam’s pants to the floor. 

“Fuck,” Sam whispered lightly because there was no way to keep in what the sight of Dean on his knees in front of him was doing to his libido.

“Damn, Sammy, look at you,” Dean murmured against the skin of Sam’s hip.  Teeth nipped and bit, but then Dean’s tongue lapped softly across it before his lips soothed the spot with kisses.  He looked up at Sam, smirking just as he pushed Sam down onto the bed behind him.

He’d forgotten how close he was to the bed so he went down hard.  Dean laughed as he stood up, quickly discarding the rest of his own clothes.  When he crawled up the bed he straddled Sam’s thighs as he leaned closer.  “What type of bedtime stories do you like?”

“The sexy kind,” Sam said with a startled laugh.  How the hell could Dean possibly think his brain was going to work at a time like this?

Dean just smiled.  “Oh, I think I have a good one for you.”  Sam didn’t care what he said as he watched Dean reach into a small cubby on the headboard of the bed and pull out lube and a condom.  Dean slicked his fingers up and shifted until he was sitting between Sam’s legs.  Wet fingers circled Sam’s hole and he closed his eyes, trying to bite back all the noises that wanted to escape.

“Once upon a time, there were two little boys,” Dean said as he pressed the first finger in.  His lips pressed to Sam’s chest before he moved lower, kissing and licked at Sam’s abdomen.  “And they loved each other very much.” He bit and licked at the spot just above Sam’s hipbone until Sam could see the flesh bruising beneath his lips. “Brothers, and there wasn’t anything the oldest wouldn’t do for his baby brother.”

Dean smirked as he looked up at Sam, mischief in his eyes.  “Nothing he wouldn’t do for his baby brother,” he reiterated just as he wrapped his lips around Sam’s cock. 

Sam nearly bucked into the wet heat but managed to claw at the blankets instead, Dean’s tongue working his shaft as a second finger began opening him up.  “Dean, come on,” Sam begged, his whole body starting to feel on edge.  Dean hummed around his cock and a third finger was pressed into him.  Sam gasped as Dean’s fingers slipped over his prostate, sending bursts of pleasure coursing through his body. 

“Now, Dean, come on.”  He wasn’t sure if he was ready or not.  It’d been years since he’d been fucked by a guy but he didn’t care.  He wanted to feel Dean inside him.  Something about the other man made him long to feel his body pressed over him, weighing Sam down, holding him there.

Sam’s cock spilled from Dean’s mouth and he smiled as he pulled his fingers from his body, grabbing the condom.  “These brothers, they were very special, but no one ever told them that.  No, they had a long, hard road to travel, each alone and uncared for.  One day though, the older brother found out a horrible truth,” Dean said as he leaned over Sam, one hand holding his weight as the other guided him to Sam’s entrance. 

“Fuck, yes, tell me,” Sam said as he realized Dean was waiting for Sam’s interest.  He didn’t care what Dean had to say just so long as he filled Sam up.

“Oh God, Sammy,” Dean moaned as he pushed into Sam’s willing body.  The burn was intense and fuck, Sam  loved every second of it.  “Come on, take it, baby,” Dean whispered as his free hand pulled Sam’s thighs further apart, slowing pushing in.

“The uh … the older brother …” Dean said between pants, “found out that his little brother had been stolen from him, hidden by his evil father.”

Dean moaned again as he was finally pressed all the way in, his hand gripped Sam’s hip hard enough to bruise.

“Move Dean, come on,” Sam begged.  “Take me, damn it, do it.”

Dean pulled out and thrust back in hard, but he didn’t pause after that.  His cock plunged deep inside Sam, shifting his body up the bed so that Sam had to grab hold of Dean’s back to keep his counter rhythm.  His nails dug deep into Dean’s back and Dean’s hips snapped forward even harder.

“Yeah, Sammy, mark me up baby.  Show them who I belong to.”

Sam shuddered at his words, leaning up to bite at Dean’s bottom lip.  “Brothers…” he gasped, trying to find something else to think about because he was about to lose his mind with the way Dean pushed into him and his fucking sinful words.   “Tell me.”

“Yeah, Sammy, big brother found out and went looking for his little brother.  No one understood his little brother, no one loved him the way his big brother would and as soon as he saw him, he knew he had to take care of him, had to take him home and mark him and make sure no one ever forgot that this was his little brother.”

“Dean?” There was something in Dean’s eyes, something a little wild and a lot possessive, but instead of answering, Dean’s lips crushed into Sam’s and his free hand reached between them, stroking Sam’s cock until there was nothing but white noise in his ears and his heart racing.

Sam’s body began to shake apart under him and Dean’s thrusts were harsh and wild.  Sam could feel their orgasms coming together and when Dean spoke he couldn’t help but look up.

“Come for me, Sammy,” Dean whispered and Sam watched the way Dean’s eyes grew feverish and heavy as he fucked up into Sam.  “Come for me, baby brother.”

Sam gasped at the words even as he felt come spilling over his stomach and chest, Dean’s name ripped from his throat just as Dean let out a heavy moan that sounded suspiciously more like Sam than anything else before he collapsed onto Sam’s chest.

Sam’s heart was racing again and his throat was suddenly dry.  He tried to push Dean off him but the fucker wasn’t moving and Sam was having a panic attack because the guy he’d just gone home with had fucked him and called him little brother as they got off. 

He tried to get up, but Dean wasn’t going anywhere and when Sam tried to push away again, Dean just laughed, dropping a sloppy kiss to Sam’s forehead and he looked down at him.  “Fuck, stress in the morning, Sammy.” He said as he pulled out of Sam’s body, throwing off the used condom before he lay back in bed, curling up against Sam’s side.  “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning and drop you off at home if you want.  Or work.  Wherever you want to go.”

“You … what you …” he wasn’t sure what to say.  Somehow Dean had just managed to quell his panic attack with a simple touch and Sam’s body was so damn lethargic.  He couldn’t remember getting off that hard before, couldn’t remember being that worked up over anyone else before.  “Don’t call me baby brother,” He finally managed to say, “s’not true.” 

He knew it was fucked up, but he felt safe in Dean’s arms and there had been a time in his life when he’d wished more than anything that someone would come claim him.  He knew, without even thinking, that he’d let Dean claim him in just about any way he wanted, but not that, not family.  He was just a foster kid, someone no one wanted.  He couldn’t go back to school and could barely hold down his current job.  Whoever Dean was, if he had a little brother, he was someone a lot better than Sam. 

Dean kissed the back of his neck and threw an arm over Sam’s hip, pulling him closer.  “Talk in the morning, Sammy.”

“You didn’t finish my bedtime story,” Sam whispered. 

Dean’s lips moved against the back of his neck and Sam relaxed into it, letting Dean’s words sooth him.  “So he took his little brother and protected him, because their father was an evil man.  He had lived all his life as a part of something big, something beyond morals and men’s thoughts of power and law.  He was a part of the Fraternity, a group of men and women who righted the world’s wrongs, who changed destiny like the fates of Greek mythology, cutting single threads in the tapestry of life.  He turned against that family though and went out on his own, killing mercilessly.  When the others became aware of his betrayal, the oldest brother knew it was only a matter of time before his father went looking for his youngest son, so he found him and protected him.”

“What happened after he found him?”  Sam asked softly.

Dean kissed the back of his ear as he spoke.  “He killed his father to make his baby brother was safe.  He died to protect him.”

“No,” Sam shook his head as he turned over, burying his head in Dean’s neck.  “No, he didn’t.  A big brother like that deserves a strong little brother, and he was willing to fight too.  And together they both survived and they found their own way to live where they could be happy together without fear.”

Dean sighed as his one hand trailed up and downs Sam’s arm and back.  “I like your ending, Sammy.  I don’t know if it works in the real world, but I like the idea of it.”

Sam smiled against Dean’s skin.  “Best fantasies come from a little truth.  If I ever had a big brother, I’d fight for him too.”

“I know you would,” Dean whispered, his voice deeper than it had been but his fingers were stroking Sam’s hair then and he was past tired.  “Go to sleep, Sammy.”

Safe in Dean’s arms, he did.

** 

Sam woke in bed alone.  He stretched, trying to work out the sore muscles before he bothered to open his eyes.

“Finally awake, Sammy?” Dean asked from the kitchen.

Sam sat up in bed and looked across the open space to see Dean leaning against the kitchen island in a pair of loose sweatpants.  His chest was bare and so were his feet.  He poured a mug full of coffee and smiled at Sam.  “How do you take it?”

“Um … black is fine.”  Dean quirked an eyebrow at him and Sam couldn’t help but smile.  “Cream and sugar.  Lots of cream.”

When Dean moved to the counter Sam got out of bed and found another pair of sweatpants sitting on the edge of the bed.  He looked at them for a second then decided not to worry about it.  He pulled them on and stepped down the stairs away from the bed.  The morning light came through the windows but the dark film protected them from harsh glares against the polished wood floors.  Sam moved over to the island and took a seat on a bar stool as Dean handed over the sugar and creamer.  Dean didn’t say anything as Sam fixed his coffee, taking a long sip of it before sighing.

“I figured you for a coffee addict,” Dean said with a smirk as he took a drink from his own mug.

“Yeah?  Why’s that?” Sam asked.

Dean set his mug down and shrugged as he stepped in between Sam’s legs.  He leaned in, brushing his nose against the soft skin under Sam’s jaw.  Sam turned his head slightly to give him better access and Dean grabbed his hips, pulling him closer as he kissed the spot right beneath his ear.  “Figured there had to be some of me in you.”

“Dean?” Sam pulled back, confused by the words.  “What?”

Dean pressed in quickly, kissing Sam lightly before he stepped away, moving to the other side of the island.  “You want some breakfast, Sammy?  I think I’ve got some pancake mix if you want that, but I make a mean French toast.”

“Dean, what the hell is going on?”  Sam watched the tension building in Dean’s shoulders.  He swallowed against the lump in his throat because Jesus, what the hell was he doing?  He … he had a girlfriend he’d just fucking cheated on, with some guy who … hot as hell … but had strange fantasies in bed and he really needed to get the hell out and get to work before he did something to screw that up too.

“I should just call a cab,” Sam said softly, setting his coffee mug down.

“No, damn it!” Dean yelled as he turned back to look at Sam.  His eyes held the same wild passion as they had the night before.  “I’ve been waiting for this most of my damn life and you aren’t allowed to just walk away.”

Sam stood up but Dean was already moving to intercept him, keeping himself between Sam and the door.  “Dean-”

“Just hear me out, Sammy.  I know a lot of what I’m gonna say will be hard to hear but it’s all true and I can prove it.  Sam Winchester.  He died in a fire when he was six months old.  They said it was an electrical malfunction, but his mother, Mary, she was murdered.  They said … the papers said her infant son died of smoke inhalation, never even made it to the hospital.  She was survived by her husband, John.”  Dean reached onto the counter and pulled open his wallet, throwing an ID Sam’s way.  “And a son.”

Sam looked at the identification and dropped it immediately.  “Dean?”

He nodded.  “Dean Winchester.”

“You know he died.  Why are you looking at me?  I didn’t steal his name, Dean.  It’s the only one I ever had.”

“Shhh…” Dean said as Sam got worked up.  He had a damn right to it, with Dean blocking the way and accusing Sam of stealing his dead brother’s identity.

“I know you didn’t, Sammy.”  Dean stepped closer.  “John lied.  I don’t know how he managed it, but he faked your death and sent you away.  I thought,” Dean’s eyes filled with tears and he took a deep breath.  “I thought I’d killed you.  Dad gave you to me, told me to run and get you out, but I thought I did something wrong, Sammy.  I thought I didn’t get you out fast enough or maybe I held you wrong and the smoke got to you.”

“Dean, no, I’m not that kid.”

“You are.  John went missing two weeks ago.  When he did I went to check out his apartment.  He’s been watching you Sam, ever since you were a kid.  Last night I followed him and he led me straight to you.”

Sam stared at him, trying to understand what Dean was saying.  “No, that doesn’t make any sense.”   He took a step back but jerked to a stop, knowing it was a step closer to the bed.  A step closer to where they’d had sex the night before.  “No, that would mean, Jesus, what you did, what you, what did you do?”

“I didn’t plan it, Sam, I was just there and she was such a bitch and I could see that she wasn’t taking care of you.  You’re mine though.  You always were.”

“You said… you said John, my, the man you’re saying is my father.  He was there last night?”

Dean nodded.  “He came after us when we left, remember?  I thought he’d scared you or something when we were driving away.”

He couldn’t catch his breath, his heart started racing faster, and his chest heaved.  He couldn’t stop it, needed to find his jacket with his pills but he looked up and he couldn’t see his clothes.  The room was pulsing with the beat of his heart.

“Calm down, Sammy,” the words were distorted, but he could make them out over the rushing in his ears.  He started to fall backward, but Dean’s hands were on him.  It just made his heart beat faster though, until suddenly everything stopped.

He felt the soft press of lips against his forehead and looked up as his heart skipped a beat, calming almost immediately at the intimate moment.  He jerked his head back, looking up at Dean who was somehow now straddling his legs as they sat on the floor.  He couldn’t think though because all he could see were green eyes staring down at him, eyes like spring grass and the feel of those lips against Sam’s forehead were burned into his memory, as it always had been.

“No,” he whispered, looking up at the only thing he’d ever held sacred.  “It wasn’t real.”

“Calm down, Sam,” Dean repeated.  “You’re working yourself up and you really aren’t ready for that yet.  You gotta let me train you before you let it all loose.”

“I need to leave.  I, Dean, I need to go home.”

“To her?” Dean sneered.

“I have to work,” Sam said, grasping at straws.  “I need to be there.”

“Sam, listen to me.  You gotta be careful.  You don’t know anything about John.  Hell you barely know me, but you’ve got to trust me, alright?”

Dean was obviously waiting for some kind of sign but Sam didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do.  Trust Dean?  The man who was possibly-probably his big brother?  The man who knowingly fucked him, believing Sam was his little brother? 

“John can’t be trusted, Sam.  Look, you and me?  We’re special.  We’ve got an ability that few people have.  It’s something we call bending the bullet.  I know it won’t make any sense right now, but in time I’ll show you.  John knew that and he tried to keep you from me, he tried to keep you from becoming the person you could be.  I’ve been through his notes and journals.  He was convinced you were gonna be even stronger than he was, and that in the end, you’d be strong enough to kill him.  I don’t know why he’s doing it now, but he’s coming after you Sam.  I won’t leave you to face that alone.”

“Dean, I” he swallowed because none of it made sense.  “What do you mean?”

“He’s an assassin Sam.  It’s … it’s why we’re special.  It’s something in our blood.  I’ll train you up and keep you safe.  John, he’s just, I don’t know.  He was always a little on the outside of things. Now though he’s gone completely off the reservation, killing without reason or cause.”

Sam was afraid to move, afraid to make a sound as Dean seemed to get lost in his thoughts, but then Dean turned his green eyes back to Sam and kissed his forehead softly.  “I know it’s a lot to take in.  I’ll make us some breakfast and take you back home, alright?  I don’t want to keep you from work or anything, but I’ll be around, okay?  I’m gonna take care of you.”

Dean got up then, quickly grabbing Sam by the hand and pulling him to his feet.  He pushed him into the bathroom and handed Sam towels.  “Get a shower, baby, and I’ll get breakfast going.”

Dean didn’t wait for an answer before he closed the door behind him.  Sam just stared at it for a few minutes, trying to understand what the hell was happening in his life.  His knees gave out and he sat heavily on the lid of the toilet.      

This wasn’t happening.  It, this, _Dean_ couldn’t be his long lost brother.  His father wasn’t alive and looking for him.  Sam was just some orphan no one wanted. 

Except, now, Dean apparently did. 

A shiver went down his spine as the memories of the night before came back, the feel of Dean’s strong sure hands on his body, his lips pressed to Sam’s, the way he filled Sam up and took care of him.  The way his arms felt as he held him and the possessive look in his eyes when he’d called Sam little brother and told him to come.

Sam dropped his head to his hands and tried to forget how it had all felt, how safe he’d been with Dean over him, around him, how he’d been willing to let Dean ask anything of him, so long as he didn’t try to make them something they weren’t.  Only now Dean was trying to say they were family, and he apparently had no qualms about wanting to be lovers as well.

What was he thinking? Dean had just confessed to being an assassin, right?  Why the hell would incest faze him?  And Sam was sitting in Dean’s bathroom, wondering what Dean was cooking for breakfast. 

What the fuck?

He just, he had to play along.  That was all there was to it.  He needed to play along and get in the shower and have breakfast and go to work.  Dean would get bored of whatever game this was and he’d leave Sam alone.  It was his only chance.

Sam stood up, taking a deep breath as he stepped into the shower.  It was huge, with multiple jets and Sam tested the settings because in the least Dean owed him a long hot shower.  He stayed under the jets for a long time, letting the water sooth his sore muscles and relax him a bit.  It wouldn’t last long, not with Dean outside the bathroom door, but it was the best he could do.

When he was done he stepped out and dried off quickly.  On the edge of the sink was a new toothbrush still in the wrapping and Sam used it –trying not to think about how often Dean hooked up that he kept them around – before pulling the sweatpants on and heading back out to look for his clothes.

They were waiting on the bed, pants folded precisely and this shirt laid out nice and flat.  He dressed quickly and ignored the sounds of Dean in the kitchen area.  When he was finished, he walked down to join the man that claimed to be his brother.  The man Sam was almost positive _was_ his brother.

He didn’t know why he was so sure of it.  Having the same colored eyes as his own imaginary caregiver didn’t make him related.  He was connected to Dean though in some way he couldn’t fully understand.  And no matter how much he wanted to run, he also knew there was a part of him that was jumping at the chance to belong to someone, to have someone that truly wanted him.  It was like there was an echo in his heart and Dean somehow filled that hole, no matter that Sam was sure Dean hadn’t been the one to carve it out in the first place.

“Hungry?” Dean asked as he set a plate of French toast onto the dining table.  Sometime while Sam was in the bathroom Dean had gotten dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a dark green shirt.  Some cut fruit was already out, along with a plate of bacon and a bottle of syrup.    A coffee mug slid up beside him as Dean settled in with his own plate next to Sam.  It was quiet while they ate and Sam tried to watch Dean without being noticed.

“I don’t mind, you know?” Dean said softly.

“What?”

“You.  Looking at me,” Dean answered as he bit a piece of bacon off.  “John raised me on the outskirts of the Fraternity so it was always me and these assassins when I was growing up.  I used to imagine you were still there sometimes just so I’d have someone else to play with.  I know you didn’t know about me, but I was thinking about you all the time.  It’s nice, now.  Seeing you for real.”

His voice was soft and sad and it pulled at Sam in ways he didn’t understand.  He swallowed his sip of coffee and looked down at his plate.  He pushed the food around for a minute before opening his mouth.  “When things get really bad, when I just need to get away from my life, I have this place I go, in my head.” 

Dean didn’t interrupt, but he stopped eating, giving Sam his whole focus.  Sam couldn’t remember the last time someone else had given him that.  If Jess had ever been that focused on him, even in the beginning, he couldn’t remember it.

“It isn’t a place really, just, it makes me feel safe.  I close my eyes, and I can feel someone holding onto me, arms wrapped tight on my sides, but they’re on top of me, watching out for me.  I can feel lips press to my forehead and there are green eyes looking down at me.”

His heart was in his throat as he said it and the look in Dean’s eyes, the raw need made Sam’s eyes dart  away.  He couldn’t sit there anymore, not with Dean staring at him like he’d just announced a revelation, so he got up and went to wait by the door.  Dean was there a second later.  They walked down to the car in silence and Sam found himself wondering what it would have been like, to be Dean’s brother.  To have this real and true and not just some emotional connection that he kept trying to force.  That Dean seemed to be unstable didn’t seem to be factoring into Sam’s thoughts even though he kept trying to remind himself.  Dean just seemed far too warm and together to be insane.  He didn’t know what to do with any of it.  Instead, he just let the silence fill the space between them.

He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t need to tell Dean the way to his apartment.  He just accepted it and got out when Dean stopped the car in front of his place.  He was moving towards the door when he heard Dean’s voice.

“Take care, Sammy.  I’ll be around.”

Sam looked back at him, heart leaping in his chest at the thought even as he swallowed against the fear of that statement.

Dean just smiled at him.  “When you need me, I’ll be here.”

**

Walking into the apartment, Sam’s world was still in full tilt.  He just wanted to sleep away his confusion but he knew he needed to get to work.  Everything else in his life was messed up, but as much as Sam hated his job it was the only constant in his life. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

Jessica’s shrill voice filled his ears and he cringed; not from the words but the screeching tone which sent a shudder up his spine.

“I have to get ready for work,” Sam answered as he walked through the small cluttered living area to the bedroom.  If he’d have given it a moment’s thought he’d have expected Jessica to have his clothes already packed but she didn’t.  Instead, she was standing in the doorway behind him.

“Sam,” her voice dropped to a more soothing tone.  “Look, I get that something is bothering you but you don’t need to pretend with me.  I know you didn’t hook up with that guy last night.  What, did you spend the night in the car?” she asked.  “I’m not even gonna get mad that you spent money to get the guy to pretend to pick you up.”

Her arms were wrapped around his waist from behind, her head rested against the back of his neck and he couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbling out of his throat. 

“Sam?”

She sounded confused but underneath was that tone that he knew meant she was pissed and trying to cover it.  It should’ve hurt, but when the realization hit it was more of a relief than anything else.  She hadn’t loved him in a long time, if she ever had.  She was just holding onto him until a better meal ticket came along. 

He had been letting himself ignore it because shit, he was a mess and Jessica was beautiful and he didn’t deserve anyone better than her.  He would never get anyone that good again.

At least until Dean came along.

Dean wanted him and, fucked up as it was, it made Sam strong enough to turn on Jessica, grab her arms and hold them at her sides.

“I’m not pretending anything.” Sam whispered.  Her eyes narrowed in anger and he suddenly wanted to hurt her, wanted to let her know how he felt every time he came home and could still smell Matt’s cologne in the air.  “Jesus, Jess, the way he touched me?  You have no idea what he can do with his hands,” he continued as he pulled his shirt up over his head.  When his hands dropped to undo the button on his pants he could see Jessica’s eyes focus on the dark mark Dean had left the night before.  “He fucked me so good, Jess, I almost feel bad that you can’t feel it.”

He dropped his pants and ignored the sob in her voice.  Crocodile tears, he told himself.  He pulled on the first pair of khakis he came across and grabbed a black shirt, not realizing until it was over his head that it was just a tee-shirt.  The clothes were really too casual for work but it wasn’t strictly against the dress code and he was too tired to care.

When he turned around Jessica was still standing there, mascara running in thick streams down her cheeks.  Her eyes were angry though and he smiled for her.  “Have fun with Matt.”

He grabbed a clean pair of socks and his shoes as he slid his wallet in his back pocket.  He snagged his keys from the table by the door before walking out of the apartment, stopping in the hallway to throw his socks and shoes on.

He felt disconnected for a moment, numb from the night and the confrontation with Jess, and just from his entire fucking life.

The drive to work was short and once there he didn’t have to bother with small talk because no one really cared about a loser like him anyway.  Matt was in his cubicle though, his so-called best friend.

“Hey Sam, what happened to you last night?” Matt asked, leaning over him as he perched against the cubicle wall.  “Jess was really worried about you.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Sam managed to mutter.  He didn’t know what came through his voice but Matt straightened up.  “Just needed to get out last night.”

“You alright, Sam?”  Sam smiled and Matt backed away, “Um, just gonna get some coffee.”

Sam took a deep breath.  He couldn’t focus on work, couldn’t even muster up the strength to care about it.  Instead he closed his eyes and thought about Dean.  Without meaning to, he found his fingers on the keyboard, pulling up Google and typing his name in.  The only thing he found was the information about the night the Winchester house burnt down.  A suspicious fire in the nursery that left Mary Winchester somehow trapped in the flames with her infant son.  What he didn’t remember about the article was the survivors and there in the black and white of his computer screen were the two remaining members of the family, John and Dean Winchester.  The picture of the family was blurry but he could see the same familiar eyes as the man who had been watching him the night before.  He knew John Winchester was coming for him and it just made Dean’s story seem all the more likely.  If he looked hard enough at the image of the toddler in the photo he could almost see Dean’s smile reflected in his younger self.

He closed his eyes and tried to bury the thought.  He didn’t belong to them.  He didn’t belong with anyone.  Years of foster care and attempted placements taught him that he wasn’t the kind of person people wanted to keep around long.  His temper was too strong, his emotions too close to the top for anyone to be able to care for him.

Except, the night before, he had been calmed.   That morning he’d been calmed, not just from his regular storm of emotions but from a true panic attack, all with the soft press of Dean’s lips.

“Jesus Christ, Winchester!  What do I pay you for?  Does this look like personal computer time?” Jason bellowed as he came up behind Sam.  Sam tried to swallow down his guilt, tried to remind himself that he needed the job and no one else would want to hire him, but it wouldn’t go down as easy as it normally did.  As hard as he tried to tell himself nothing had changed, everything had.  He had. 

He stood up and looked down at his supervisor - who was almost a foot shorter than him - and smirked.  “What if it is?” Sam asked.  “What if I hate this fucking job?  What if I think these stupid calls are pointless?  The data we’re supposed to be collecting is meaningless?  What if I think you’re just a punk who gets off on telling other people what to do?”

Jason was backing up quickly and Sam continued to move forward with him.  “That’s enough Winchester.”

Sam smiled then as he realized he was right.  “Damn straight it is.”  He pulled back his fist and connected with Jason’s jaw, sending him reeling back against Matt’s desk. 

“Woh, man, what are you doing?”  Matt asked as he pushed away from his desk towards Sam. 

Sam didn’t pause as he turned towards his best friend.  “This.”  He swung his fist again, landing the blow straight on Matt’s nose.  His knuckles hurt all to hell but it was worth it.  He felt free for the first time in years.  He’d promised himself years before that he wouldn’t allow people to make him feel small and worthless and yet he had, after all that time keeping his spirits up as he moved from one home to another, he’d let Jessica and Matt and Jason and everyone else in his life treat him like he wasn’t worth knowing.

He jerked around then and grabbed the phone from his desk, yanking it from the cubicle.  He held it high over his head and threw it to the ground, watching with a satisfied grin as it smashed to bits. 

“Winchester!”  Jason was yelling, but Sam smiled as he flipped him off on his way out of the office.

He had no idea what he was going to do or where he was going to go, but he had to take huge gulping breaths as he reached the open air.  His feelings of freedom weren’t diminished and he felt like someone else now, someone who had the whole damn world to explore.

A car horn drew his attention and he watched as a silver BMW pulled up in front of him on the street.  He stared at it for a minute before the window rolled down.  “Knew you had it in you, Sammy.”

He thought his knees might give out on him as Dean’s smile was revealed from inside the car.  “You getting in or what?” He asked, though there was no uncertainty in his voice. 

Sam didn’t answer, just ran to the other side of the car and hopped in.  His legs were bouncing and he couldn’t seem to control his energy.  He was free, but he wasn’t alone.  He wouldn’t be alone ever again, he knew that.  When he looked at Dean, he could see the way his lover’s – his brother’s – smile grew larger.

“So what now?” Sam asked.  “You said, you said I was special.  What now?”

Dean laughed as he reached over and squeezed Sam’s knee where it was jumping.  “Now, we get you settled and we do what the Winchester boys were always meant to be doing.”

“And what is that?”

“Saving People.  Hunting things.”

 

**

The training came easy to Sam.  He’d spent a life on the streets.  Moving from one foster home to another had given him the ability to fit in well enough wherever he was, but his temper and smart mouth had also taught him how to fight.  He was smart enough not to get caught, but he knew how to fight and how to use his body against an opponent. 

Dean wasn’t like another opponent though and he handed Sam’s ass back to him more than once.  It took two months before Dean felt Sam was strong enough to let him out of his sight for more than a few moments, but Sam felt stronger than ever.  He didn’t know that he’d ever kick his brother’s ass, but he was all for trying.  They trained hard, worked hard, but as soon as Sam went into training mode Dean refused to press Sam about anything of a sexual nature.  Not only that, but when Sam had started seeking it out a few weeks after they’d started, Dean had gently let him down, explaining that Sam needed to focus on other things just then.

It left Sam frustrated and needy.  When he walked out the door tonight, the first time Dean hadn’t immediately followed after him, Sam decided it was time to hit up a bar.  If Dean wasn’t going to take care of him he’d find someone who damn well would.  Alright, so no he wouldn’t but it wouldn’t hurt to flirt and make himself feel wanted.

He was ten minutes away from Dean’s place when he felt the sensation between his shoulder blades, the weight of someone’s eyes on his back.  He took a deep breath and turned down a small side street, his back hitting the side of the building as soon as he passed so he could try to jump his stalker.

As soon as the guy was starting past Sam jumped out, but his fist was dodged with the same efficient movements that Sam knew so well.  He found himself with his back against the wall again, John Winchester’s arm at his throat.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” The man’s voice was like whiskey, rough and deep and his arm pulled up just enough to let Sam talk.

“What do you want with me?”

“I want you to be safe.  I know you don’t think so, but Sam you have to believe me.  I know your life wasn’t easy but it was better if the Fraternity thought you were dead.  I couldn’t risk helping you, son.”

Sam tried to break free at the last word, anger eating away at him but John’s hold held.  “You don’t get to call me son.”

John’s eyes searched his and he nodded.  “Alright.  Fair enough.  I just wanted to warn you.  I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, but you need to stay clear of Dean.”

“Sure,” Sam said with a feral smile.  “I’ll get right on that.”

“Sam, I know… I know what happened that first night.  I know what he did to you, what you did together, but he’s not telling you everything.”

“What do you think he’s hiding then?” Sam asked.  He had no idea what to say to John, no idea what the man was even talking to him for. Everything he knew from Dean said that John wanted him dead.

“He’s your brother, Sam.”

“I know.”

That shocked John enough that he took a few steps back, mouth gaping at Sam’s admission.  “You – he told you?”

“The next morning he told me.  So whatever you think I don’t know about Dean, you’re wrong.”

“He’s been brainwashed, Sam.  The Fraternity have him so screwed around he doesn’t know right from wrong anymore.  He believes, like a goddamn apostle, and he’s going to take you down with him.”

Sam smirked.  “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” John’s voice grated out.  “He was as soon as I told him you died, but he never got over it.  They whispered in his ear, always talking about what you’d be like, how good a brother Dean would  have been, how strong you would have been when you joined the order to be with him.”

Sam repressed the shudder that wanted to run through him because though Dean didn’t say most of it, Sam knew it already.   John didn’t know Sam though, didn’t understand him the way Dean did.

“So?” Sam smiled at the look of horror on John’s face.  “You think I didn’t dream about having a big brother to take care of me my whole life?  Think I didn’t want someone to come in and save me from all that?  Maybe you should have been paying more attention.”

“Get down!” Sam was suddenly pushed down as a bullet exploded over John’s shoulder against the wall.       

There was no one in sight but John put himself between Sam and the opening of the street as he pulled out two guns from under his jacket.  Sam wanted to do something but John was an assassin and he had no idea who was coming around the corner.  He couldn’t think clear enough to run because his mind was still tripping over the fact that John’s body was still between him and the shooter and there was no way he should have been putting his life on the line for Sam. 

“Have a good reunion, John?”

It was Dean’s voice and John shoved Sam back down hard when he tried to stand.

“Just having a little talk with my son,” John answered as Dean rounded the corner.

“Let him go, John, and I’ll let you walk out of this alley alive,” Dean said, his voice cold and quiet.

“So you can take him in to the order, Dean?  He deserves better than that.  He was the best part of us all; he can be more than just a trained killer.”

Dean smirked.  “Like you care about him.  You left him alone all those years, John, left me alone, always thinking he was gone.  You got no right to talk like you know him.”

“What about the things you’ve been doing to him, huh, Dean?  You think you’ve got a right to be doing those with your little brother?”

“I’m taking care of him,” Dean yelled.  “Like no one else ever has.”

John leaned up just a bit and it gave Sam the space he needed.  He pushed at John, forcing the other man to fall forward.  Sam ran towards Dean and Dean fired two bullets back towards John, forcing him to stay low and pull back away from his son.

“Sammy,” Dean grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the street, running the two blocks to his car.  When they were in, Dean sped away, taking them out of the city instead of towards Dean’s apartment. 

“Are you alright, Sammy?”

“Pull over, Dean.”

“What?”

“Pull over.”

“I can’t, it’s not safe.”  Sam glared at him and Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “Alright, just let me get far enough away.”

Sam considered asking what Dean considered safe, but decided not to push it.  Instead they drove on in silence.  Dean pulled the car over twenty minutes later; a small park in the middle of suburbia.  It was dark out by the time Dean pulled in and they had the park to themselves.  Sam got out as soon as Dean stopped the car.  The drive had given him time to think about what was happening and to realize he needed to get Dean where he couldn’t leave.  The park was perfect.  Dean could walk away from his apartment all too easy, but out like this, with Sam reliant on him to get anywhere, Dean wouldn’t walk away.  Sam was counting on that need to keep Dean with him long enough to hear what Sam needed to say.

He walked over to the swings and sat on one, moving just so far as his long legs could stay on solid ground.  It wasn’t intentional – hell, Dean was the one that picked a park – but if it was a subtle reminder that Sam was his little brother, Sam was okay with that.  Dean took a few more minutes to join him, but Sam saw him in the trunk and he knew Dean had picked out his special gun.  Sam would say favorite but Dean always looked at that particular gun, the one with the intricate design fashioned into both sides of the handle, with a mixture of fear and awe.  Dean only used it when there was a target to kill or a situation he considered too dangerous.  That he pulled it out then wasn’t a surprise.  Dean was feeling anxious about John’s visit and he needed all the security he could get. 

“Sam, what did he say to you?”

Dean’s voice was quiet, his body still as he leaned back against the metal structure of the swings.  There was no anger in his voice, but Sam could detect a small amount of fear there.  He knew his brother, and he knew there wasn’t another person in the world that would have been able to detect it.  Dean kept himself closed off from everyone, including their father, but he’d let Sam in completely.  It made Sam’s chest fill with pride to be granted that, and sometimes it made his shoulders heavy with the burden.

“He said you were brainwashed.”  There was no need to lie.  Sam already knew some of the truth.  “He said that the Fraternity was building you up until you were obsessed with me.”

Dean smirked at that, but there was no denial on his brother’s lips.  “What did you say to that?”

“So?”  Sam shrugged, but there was that fire in Dean’s eyes, the acknowledgment of what had been between them, what would be between them again if Sam could just get his brother to admit to the need again.  “He told me we were brothers.  He seemed surprised when I told him that I already knew.  Guess he was shocked that I’d stayed around after I found out you knowingly fucked your brother.”

“So he knew about that.”

Sam saw it then, the moment of doubt creeping into Dean’s eyes.  Dean couldn’t care less what the rest of the Fraternity thought of him and his relationship with Sam, but he could see that John’s opinion still mattered.  It explained why Dean was so worried about John.  No matter how much he believed in the Fraternity and their higher goals, he was still being asked to kill his father, the man who had raised him. 

“Dean, something’s wrong with all this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He wasn’t trying to kill me.  When that first shot rang out, he threw me on the ground.  He was protecting me with his body.  That’s not what you do to someone you want to kill.”

“Sam, he was just-”

“What?  What was he _just_ doing that meant him protecting me?  He was going to take a bullet for me, Dean.  You were coming to save me from him, I know that, but John was trying to protect me from you.  Tell me how that means he’s trying to kill me.”

Dean looked at him for a few minutes, hands fisted at his sides until he finally looked down at his feet.  “I don’t know.”

Sam nodded as he got up from the swing.  Dean wasn’t looking at him but with his instincts he had to know Sam was coming right for him.  Sam stopped, his legs coming up between Dean’s where he leaned.  “Dean,” he reached a hand up, cupping his brother’s face and pulling it up to look at him.  There was so much doubt in his eyes and Sam leaned in, letting his lips brush against his brother’s forehead like Dean had done to him so often in the first days of training.  “I know you’re trying to keep me safe, but I think it’s time.  You know John wasn’t lying.  They’ve messed with your head, Dean, and you aren’t even trying to deny it.  Take me in.  Let me see them.  Trust me to find the truth for you.”

“You’re the only thing I know, Sammy.  I don’t know if I can put you in that danger.”

“Dean, don’t you think the fact that you’re worried about it means something?  You’re saying you don’t trust the people that sent you to protect me.”

“Sammy, we can just walk away, alright?  You and me?”

“Are these really the sort of people you just walk away from?”

Dean’s shoulders seemed to slump a little and Sam took his chance.  He leaned down and brushed his lips against Dean’s.  He didn’t respond at first, but Sam licked across Dean’s bottom lip and then Dean’s hands were gripping the back of Sam’s shirt, his lips parting as his own tongue flicked out to taste Sam.

“Sammy,” Dean moaned against Sam’s lips and his desperation tasted better than anything Sam had ever dreamt of.

“You were right, Dean.  I’m yours.  Always have been.  You don’t need to hide from me, from this.  I need you, need you to be everything, need you to keep me safe, love me, and protect me.  I’m gonna be everything for you too, remember?  I learned to fight for you, big brother.  Gonna take care of you too.”

Dean’s hands pulled Sam closer, their hips lining up and Sam moaned at the contact as Dean’s denim clad cock rubbed against his.  Dean began sliding down the metal pole and Sam followed him until they were in the sand, Dean dropping his gun to one side as Sam opened the front of his jeans.  Dean’s hands were on Sam’s waist then, fingers under Sam’s shirt and tracing lower until he was pulling Sam’s button free from its hole.  Sam pressed Dean’s pants down far enough to pull him out and then Dean returned the favor and Dean pulled Sam down on top of him into a desperate kiss.  It wouldn’t take long, not with the way Dean was writhing under him, his moans swallowed so sweetly with Sam’s kiss.

“Gonna take care of you,” Dean breathed against his lips and Sam nodded, staring down at Dean.  Without warning, Dean flipped them over, pressing Sam underneath him, the swing knocking lightly at Dean’s shoulders as he reached between them, taking them both in hand.  His fingers were strong and callused, hands that knew Sam better than any lover ever had.  Sam looked up to see his brother’s green eyes over him, his fantasy played out in real life as his brother-turned-lover held him tight and broke them both to pieces with his hands.  Dean must have seen something in his eyes because then he was leaning up.  When his lips brushed against Sam’s forehead he whispered “come for me little brother,” and Sam followed his order without hesitation.  Dean followed a second later, his breath a harsh staccato as he painted Sam in warm stripes.

They lay like that for a few minutes, Dean’s lips against Sam’s forehead and Sam’s fingers gripping the back of Dean’s shirt tight.  “Jesus, Sammy,” Dean finally whispered.  “Fucking my brother wasn’t perverted enough for you?  You gotta make me do it in a kid’s playground?”

Sam let out a small chuckle, but Dean moved off him them, pulling his shirt off to let Sam clean himself up with.  He did, then realized that Dean was watching him with a serious expression.

“Okay, Sam.  We’ll do this.  But if I think the others are getting too nosy about you, we’re gone.  Got it?”

“You trust me to find the truth, Dean and I’ll trust you to pull us out before we get in trouble.”

Dean searched his eyes for a moment, then smiled.  “Seal it with a kiss?”

Sam crawled up into his brother’s lap, straddling his hips as Dean tilted his head back to look at Sam.  “Always,” he said before brushing their lips together lightly.  Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around Sam for a few minutes before Dean finally let him go. 

“Come on.  The sooner we get to the Fraternity the better.”

They were in the car five minutes later and Sam had no idea where they were heading.  The only thing he knew was that he trusted Dean to get them there.

**

“Samuel?”

Sam stood at Dean’s back, his posture tall and strong the way Dean had told him to be.  He was done with the days of hunching over and hiding who he was.  With Dean’s care and training, Sam had grown into the person he’d always hoped he’d someday be.  Dean’s voice was respectful as they walked through the textile mill.  Sam knew what to expect, but somehow it didn’t prepare him for the figure that turned around at Dean’s words.

Samuel Campbell was the head of the order, the man who read the weaves and told the Fraternity where to kill.  His assassins were unknown in the world because there was no political party attached to them.  The loom, Dean had told him, weaved humanities fate.  Samuel read the tapestry and unraveled the message.  They were the simple tailors who created a future from the loom’s design.  Sam could see something else in Samuel’s eyes though, in the set of his shoulders, and the way he carried himself.  Samuel was a man who was used to power. 

“Dean, we were beginning to get worried about you.”

Dean’s body relaxed then and Sam knew there was nothing fake in his brother’s relief.  “I needed to make sure we were safe before bringing Sam back.  Samuel Campbell, this is my brother, Sammy.”

“Sammy,” Samuel said, offering his hand out to Sam.

“It’s Sam,” he said without thinking.  Something in Samuel’s eyes made him want to cringe so he moved around Dean and took the offered hand, smiling against his misgivings.  “Dean’s told me a lot about you.  Thank you.  I understand you saved my life.”

“That would be Dean’s job,” Samuel said as he pulled back, eyes warmer now.  “When he called to check in he had good things to say about you as well.  Perhaps you’d like to see a little of what we do?”

Sam nodded and Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam with a smile. 

“Dean, I think the gunsmith needed some of your particular attention.  Why don’t you head on down and I’ll send Sam your way when we’re through.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed at that, but Sam dropped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed slightly.  “That sounds like a good idea.” 

He could see that Dean didn’t like being separated from him, but Sam knew it was his best chance at getting to Samuel and seeing what he really was.  The Fraternity might not know much about Sam, but they knew Dean and Sam didn’t want to put his brother in a compromising position.

Dean nodded, then walked out of the room, stopping to give Sam one last look that he knew meant _be careful_ , and _take care of yourself_.    He nodded, and then Sam turned his attention back to Samuel. 

“Dean seems to have taken to you pretty fast.”

Sam smiled at the thought.  “It’s mutual, if you’re worried.”

Samuel shook his head as he began walking, Sam at his side.  “I wasn’t.  When Dean found out about you we did what we could to find out who you really were.  There’s not a lot to go on, mind you.  Foster records don’t say much about the person but if you know how to read between the lines, you can learn enough.  I knew that you were looking for someone, just like Dean was.  I knew that when he found you, when he brought you to us, that you’d do everything you could to make him proud.”

“I’d do anything for Dean,” Sam promised honestly.  “Just, tell me what I can do.  Tell me how I can make him safe from John.”

“Did he tell you all of it?”

“That John is my father?  That he wants to kill me?”  Sam asked.  “Yeah, he told me about that.  He also told me that what they do, what you all do, is in my blood.  He’s been training me to join you.”

It was all true, though now Sam’s thoughts of joining were more along the lines of protecting his brother.  Nothing was adding up right and Sam didn’t like it.  Having met Samuel, he knew his hunch was right.  There was no way this man was letting Dean go without a fight.

They walked in silence for a few minutes as Samuel led him up a small flight of stairs and into a small room.  There was nothing in the room but a giant loom and a stretch of plain fabric as it continued to weave.  Samuel led Sam to it and they stared down at the fabric.

“It’s the most magnificent weave in the world, and no one outside of the order will ever know of it,” Samuel said softly.  “Dictators have been overthrown, serial killers have been stopped, and the reign of chaos has slowly receded.  You, Sam Winchester, are about to become a part of something majestic.”

**

Sam stared down at his hands, trying to find his voice.  Dean was standing over him, waiting, but Sam didn’t know how to begin.  The knowledge he held, the secrets he’d been able to find, he didn’t know how to do what he was being asked to do.  He’d asked Dean to trust him though, to let him find the truth and he had.  Dean deserved to know, he had to know. 

“Samuel,” Sam said the name and he couldn’t help the bitterness that laced it.  Dean crouched down, his hands resting on Sam’s thighs as he leaned in, forcing Sam to look at him.  Sam took a deep breath and nodded as he began again.  “Did you know Samuel’s daughter?”

“No, she died before I became a part of the Fraternity.”

“She was the only one to ever walk away.  She fell in love and she started a family.”

“I didn’t know-“

“Her name was Mary.”  Dean blinked as his brow furrowed but Sam continued.  “Mary Campbell.  When she married she became Mary Winchester.”

“What?”

“Samuel is our grandfather.  It looks like,” he let out a deep breath and grabbed his brother’s shoulders, keeping him close, “Dean, he’s been fabricating kills.  Including the hit on John Winchester.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I hacked into his database.  He keeps records of everything, Dean.  He didn’t do it before, but he thought if he used the two of us that we could get close enough to John to kill him.”

“Why?”

“He hates John and he’s just been looking for a reason to kill him.  He’s convinced that Mary’s murder was a hit on John that went wrong.  Apparently Mary threw herself in front of John, taking a bullet for him.  The fire was just a cover.  That was why John separated us.  Samuel’s personal notes say that John was trying to find a way to leave the order and take us with him.  He never found a safe way to do it.  Recently though, John’s found out that Samuel is ordering hits on his own.  When John went AWOL, Samuel decided it was time to try to send us against him.”

“So you’re saying that we’ve just been killing innocent people.”

Sam saw the devastation in his brother’s eyes and he pulled him closer.  “Dean, you were doing what you thought you had to.  This is Samuel’s fault.  He did this to the order.”  He paused, not sure if Dean was ready for the rest of it but he needed to hear it.  “I think you were the only one who didn’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because I found something else in Samuel’s personal files; a kill slip on every assassin in the Fraternity, except you and John.  I think the others found out but never bothered to question it so the loom threw their names out as kills.  It knew they needed to be stopped.  You and John never willingly killed an innocent  so there was no honest kill slip on either of you.”

“So, John, he wasn’t … he didn’t …”

“No, he didn’t,” a voice called from behind them. 

Dean was up and had his guns pulled so fast Sam couldn’t stop him.  John Winchester stood in the middle of Dean’s apartment – the second one Sam had been to though Dean confessed to having seven across the globe – with his hands in the air.

“I’m gonna reach behind me, Dean, and I’m gonna pull out my two guns and set them on the counter.  Got it?”

Dean gave him a small nod and John did as he said, movements nice and slow so as not to startle his oldest son.

“Now, you think you can take the guns off me?” John asked.

Dean stared at him a minute, tucking one gun into his belt but keeping his special gun in hand.  “You’ve got a real short leash here, John, coming in uninvited.”

“Not uninvited,” Sam said as he got up, moving until his chest was pressed to Dean’s back.  “I asked him to come here.”

“Sam-” There was anger in Dean’s voice and Sam ignored it.

“You trusted me with the truth, Dean.  The truth is that John wasn’t ever trying to hurt us, and Samuel used that.”

“Dean,” John’s voice was sad and Sam could see the pain in his eyes.  “I might have been a crappy father, but I would never hurt you.  I couldn’t stop them from changing you, but I always hoped you’d remember that much at least.”

“Samuel said…” Dean shook his head, “You … you let me think Sam was dead.”

“I did.  I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to make them think you were dead too.  Samuel came to the apartment and he saw you huddled in the ambulance when they were getting ready to take us to the hospital.  He didn’t see Sam.  You had him bundled up in the seat beside you, holding onto him.  You had your back to Samuel so he didn’t know.  That night I paid the right people and Sam Winchester died.  I didn’t know anything else until years later, when I thought it was safe enough to look for him.  I still couldn’t go to him though so I kept an eye on where he was moved and never let either of you know.  It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I had to protect you both the best I could.”

“What about now?” Sam asked.  “We’re never going to be the sons you want,” he curled his hand over Dean’s hip and he saw John’s eyes flicker to it.  There was no mistaking what he was saying, and John paled slightly.  “What do you think happens now?”

John looked at Sam and Dean, his eyes hard and cold.  “Now?  I say it’s time we went home boys.  I think it’s time the Fraternity paid for what it’s done to the Winchester family.”

Sam didn’t doubt his messed up relationship with Dean was a part of those words, but John seemed to be willing to overlook it for the sake of his revenge.  No one moved at first and Sam knew Dean well enough to understand what he was working through.  He wanted to trust his father but the Fraternity had messed with him pretty good.  Dean didn’t need to be told to understand that.  In the end though, Dean lowered the gun.  “You ready to take the house down, Sammy?” Dean asked, finally looking over his shoulder at Sam.

“Is he ready for this, Dean?” John cut Sam off before he could answer.  “Can he stand on his own against the others?”

Dean smirked.  “Oh yeah, Sammy is definitely ready for the family business.”

**

It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, of course.  John wanted to see how well trained Sam was and Dean was prickly about the other man’s implied criticism of Dean’s training.  After three weeks of brutal testing though, John finally decided Sam was well enough trained.  Except for one thing.

“You didn’t teach him the one thing that made him different from any other thug off the street,” John bitched as Sam threw his hands in the air.

“This is fucking impossible,” Sam growled out, frustrations making his blood boil.  It wasn’t that they wanted him to shoot a gun.  He could do that just fine even before he’d met Dean, but this was totally different.  It was insane to think he could hit a target _behind_ a stone pillar.  As hard as he tried, the pillar was starting to look like Swiss cheese and the target behind it was untouched.

“I taught him what I could, where I could.  If you haven’t forgotten, I was trying to keep him under the radar.  Taking him for training like this would have put him at risk.”

“The Fraternity has places you could have taken him,” John reprimanded.

“Yeah, well you weren’t the only one I was protecting him from.”

John’s eyes widened slightly but Dean pushed away from his resting place on the wall.  The deserted parking structure was a great place to practice but it wasn’t exactly comfortable for any of them to be hanging around.  And even after three weeks, none of them was at ease when they were all together.  Dean looked like he was ready to spit nails, constantly stepping between John and Sam whenever John looked like he might advance on Sam.  John grumbled under his breath whenever Dean touched Sam, no matter that Sam had made his position clear on what it would mean to be a part of his life.  And Sam?  Sam was tired and frustrated and he wanted the whole damn thing over with.

“This is impossible, Dean.  No one can take this shot.”

Dean’s hand ran down Sam’s arm until his fingers encircled his wrist.  He squeezed ever so slightly, and then took the gun from Sam.  Sam watched as Dean turned, his back to Sam’s chest, staring at the target for a second.  He moved quickly, swinging his arm in a wide arc as he pulled the trigger.  Sam’s mouth opened wide in astonishment as the bullet’s trajectory bowed around the pillar and he heard the bullet tear into the pillar behind it where the target hung.

“Your turn, Sammy,” Dean said as he placed the gun in his hand.  “I know you can do this.”

Dean pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead, his hand tracing the path of San’s cheek before he walked over to the pillar and stood before it. 

John was up on his feet, moving to Sam’s side.  “Dean, what the hell are you doing?”

“Take the shot.  I know you’ve got this, Sam.”

“Dean?”  Sam’s voice was breathless but Dean didn’t answer.  He just looked at Sam with all the trust in the world.  He wanted to curse his brother for the damn fool he was, but at the same time he needed to do this, to prove his brother right.  No matter what else happened,  if he didn’t do this neither Dean nor John would ever allow him to be a part of their revenge. 

He needed to earn his place in the family and Dean was the way to do it.  Sam could feel his heart beating faster, remembering his brother’s words from so long ago, you’re _working yourself up._  He’d thought it was just a panic attack at the time, another damn attack that had ruined his life.  He knew better now.  _Gotta let me train you before you let it all loose._

He closed his eyes for a moment, felt the ghost of his brother’s lips against his forehead and allowed his heartbeat to speed up, calling on the strength Dean gave him, the sheer confidence in his eyes as he waited for Sam to pull the trigger.

He growled as he opened his eyes, arm swinging wide as he took the shot.  The bullet curved around his brother and the pillar, moving past them and Sam just stared at Dean as he heard the shot hit its mark on the other side.

Dean smirked as his eyes left Sam and he looked at John.  “Still think I need help training my brother?”  Dean pushed off the pillar then, done with John as he reached Sam and pulled him close.  “Knew  you could do it.”

“Do that to me again and I just might shoot you out of spite.”

Dean’s smile was brilliant.  “Come on, Sammy.  Let’s see it a few more times, without my interference, and we can get the hell out of here.”

Dean went back to his place on the wall, away from Sam and John, but John stayed at Sam’s side, watching and waiting.  He didn’t say anything else, but when Sam emptied every bullet in his clip into the target, John finally smiled at him.

“Welcome to the Fraternity, Sam.”

**

Dean’s idea of celebrating Sam’s newfound ability was to spend the night fucking him senseless.  Sam wasn’t complaining in the slightest.  They had two days, according to John, before he would have everything in line for their mission and Dean seemed to want to spend it in bed.  Considering how long Sam had been waiting for Dean to continue their exploration of one another, Sam was just fine with that.

The sex was amazing, Dean took absolute care with him, learning his body in ways that no other lover ever had.  When he thought back to Jess and the way they’d been, even in the beginning, he knew that he would never be able to go back.  He could never find another lover who would understand him the way Dean did, who would cater to him the same way. 

It wasn’t just the sex either.  Dean seemed to keep a running tally of things he didn’t know about Sam in his head and he was constantly asking questions and filing away new information to pull back up later when needed.  Like remembering how he took his coffee, or that he liked the color blue, or how he noticed Sam couldn’t sleep anymore without Dean pressed against his body somehow.

He stared up at the ceiling of Dean’s bedroom, the dark fitting his mood. 

“Sammy?” Dean whispered his name as his lips moved over Sam’s shoulder.  He was on his back with Dean half on top of him, his hand running up and down Sam’s stomach as he spoke.  “When this is done, we’ll just leave, okay?  You and me, wherever you want to go.”

“You really think you could leave all this behind?” Sam asked.  It wasn’t the apartment he meant or even the city. 

“Yes,” Dean said without hesitation.  “I’d have gone a long time ago if I knew you were alive.  I never wanted this, you know?  It was all I had though and I was good at it.  You know what I want Sam?  I want to take you somewhere no one will ever find us.  We could buy an island somewhere or just live on a boat.  Sail around the world and go wherever we pleased.  Hell, we could move to the arctic and stay in bed all the damn time because it would be too cold to do anything else and I’d be happy there.  I just need you.”

Sam closed his eyes as he turned his head, waiting patiently as Dean leaned up, pressing his lips against Sam’s.  “I don’t care, Dean.  I don’t’ have anything holding me here anymore.”

Dean nodded.  “Alright, so we take care of this tomorrow and then we’re off the map.”

“John isn’t going to like it.”

“No, he’s not,” Dean said with a sigh, “but he should have thought of that before he kept this secret.  I get that he was trying to protect us,” he cut Sam off before he could say anything, “but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have told me later on.”

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling him closer.  “I don’t care about that anymore either,” he said softly.  “I’ve got you now and that’s all that matters.  We get through this tomorrow and we’ll leave.  And we’ll get in touch with John when we figure out where we’re gonna land.”

Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead then and pulled until he was on his back with Sam pressed against his chest.  “Good night, Sammy.”

He didn’t bother to answer.  He just closed his eyes and tried to relax.  He needed his sleep after all.  In the morning they were paying the Fraternity a visit.

**

“Samuel, you son of a bitch, come on out!”

Of all the ways to get the Fraternity’s attention this was sure to do it, Sam thought as he watched his father approach the main gate of the textile mill.  He’d walked the last half mile so no one would see them approaching together.  No one had any reason to suspect that John had gotten to them but they had no way to guarantee that no one had been watching them either.  It was better to keep the surprise if they could.

“John Winchester.”

From the top of the gate walls, Samuel bellowed down to John, his voice carrying to where Sam and Dean sat in the bus waiting.  He had no idea where John managed to get a bus from, let alone one painted in camouflage colors to hide them among the tree lined road that led up to the textile mill but he refused to ask.  What he knew about the business could fit into a bucket while Dean and John knew rivers.  He was prepared to let his brother hold onto those details.

“Why don’t you come on down, Samuel?” John asked with a smile.  “I think we have some business to discuss.”

“John,” Samuel was shaking his head.  “I always took you for a damn fool.  I tried to get Mary to see that but she was blind in her devotion to you.  Do you really think you’re going to walk away from this?”

“You’d be amazed at the things I’ve walked away from Samuel.  The Fraternity is just another bad memory I’m gonna have to live with once it’s all over.”

“You have a funny way of walking away,” Samuel answered from up on the wall. 

“I just want the truth.”

“Which truth is that, John?  You want to know about the weave and where it came from?  You want to hear about-“

“Cut the crap, Samuel.  I just wanna know how long you’ve been ordering the kills yourself.”

Samuel laughed, shaking his head.  “For twenty-some years you’ve been taking your kill orders like a good soldier.  Now you start asking?”  John didn’t answer and Samuel’s laugh died.  “Alright.  I’ll play along, John.  I’ve been calling the shots for a year now.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve handed out kills that came from the loom as well, but I added my own.”

“Did you think we wouldn’t figure it out?”

“You’re assassins.  I honestly didn’t figure you’d care.  None of the others did, but you had to go and grow a conscience and I couldn’t have you around poisoning Dean with that.  The boy is a true believer.  If he knew what I was doing he’d have pulled the gun on me himself.  As good as you are, John, your boy is even better.  I can’t wait to see what happens when he trains up that brother of his.  If we can just get them to stop fucking long enough to train.”

“You’ve got that to answer for as well,” John said coldly.

Sam rolled his eyes at the grandstanding but Dean was already setting the bus in motion.  John was moving to the side, though his rambling motions throughout the confrontation were designed to keep anyone from realizing he was staying out of the way.  When Dean hit the gas pedal the bus ate up the ground between them quickly.  He didn’t slow as they got closer to the walls and Sam braced himself for the impact. 

The whole bus shuddered as it crashed through the wooden gates, strings dancing around the ceiling as the balloons shifted around them.  Sam got a quick flash of Samuel’s surprised face before he was running from the walls.  Sam held himself steady, as they hit the gate.  The noise was deafening but even as they pushed through Sam was already moving to the back of the bus.  The bus crashed through the gate and then in through the front wall of the building.  When it stopped moving, Sam ran to the back and threw open the door.  John came running through and Sam slammed the doors closed again.

“Think the boys are ready to play yet?” Dean asked as John and Sam joined him at the front of the bus. 

The sound of gun fire hit the top of the vehicle and John smiled.  “Time for some fun boys.”

“Jesus, what the hell type of family did I get myself involved with?”

Dean moved away from the front and came up to stand beside Sam in the walkway.  He grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close, kissing him deeply.  He was smiling when he pulled away.  “You’re a Winchester, Sammy.  It doesn’t get more fucked up than this.”

Sam laughed, though he noticed the way John watched them with slitted eyes.     John’s scowl didn’t go away but Dean ignored it as he moved back to the front of the bus.  “You ready for this, John?”

John smirked as he grabbed a handful of balloon strings.  “Let’s take this fucker down.”

Sam raised his gun and shot out the front window of the bus.  When it was gone, he grabbed a handful of balloons as well and they shoved them out the front.  Dean opened the side door and John ran out with the balloons as cover. 

Bullets rang around them but the balloons were doing their job.  Dean pulled Sam with him out the door and towards the stairwell where John was waiting.  They could hear the other assassins trying to fire from the open wall that afforded them the ability to look down from the second floor to the first.  “We’re good, John,” Dean called as he and Sam started running up the stairs.

No one said anything as they went up the stairs.  Then Sam and Dean were waiting on one side of the door and when John reached them he looked down at his watch.  He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial.  As soon as the call connected, there was a large explosion.  The bus had been rigged with a bomb, but beside that each of the balloons carried a small detonation as well.  With the others confused as the bombs went off around them, the Winchester’s headed out of the stairwell and onto the second floor. 

The noise of the bombs drowned out everything.  The door slammed out as John led them through.  Sam had his gun up but he was behind John and Dean.  When the people saw them come through the door they turned their guns on them.  John and Dean were in front of him so he couldn’t shoot through them, but as they moved into the room someone came up from the side.  He didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

It was the first time he shot a gun at someone.  It was the first time he killed a man.  He thought he should probably feel bad about it but all he could feel was relief that it wasn’t Dean on the ground, or himself. 

Two, the shot rang to the left side and his second kill was down.  He couldn’t count the shots from John and Dean, too much noise from the explosion and his ears rang from it, but he knew his own.

Three, a shot right between Dean and John. 

John looked over his shoulder at him, a brief glance that showed Sam his surprise.  Dean didn’t look back but he could see the smile that pulled at his lips. 

It took him a minute to recognize the silence and they were alone.  He turned, giving his back to Dean and John as they continued to creep forward, covering them.  They moved quickly, with a precision that spoke of years of working together and Sam was astonished at how right it felt, tucked into a protective cell with his father and brother. 

“Where the hell are they?” John demanded. 

“You know where they are,” Dean answered in a quiet voice.  His anger was palpable, but underneath that Sam heard his brother’s anxiety.  “They’re waiting.”

Sam took a deep breath and Dean looked back at him.  “Sam, this could get messy.”

Sam smiled at Dean, taking pity on his brother’s distress.  He knew Dean wasn’t worried about his own life, or about John’s.  He’d brought Sam into the world of assassins and he was afraid Sam would get hurt now.  “Not turning back now, Dean.  I’m not leaving without you.”

Dean gave him a tight smile.  “Alright, Sammy.  Let’s get this over with then.”

John didn’t look at Sam, but he could see his father looking at Dean for something.  When Dean nodded, John started moving forward again.

“No matter what happens boys, I’m glad to meet it with you at my side.”

Sam didn’t answer.  He wasn’t sure he could.  He didn’t really know John and he’d tried to keep from thinking too much about it, but when he was tired the thought crept up from time to time; what life would have been like if he’d been raised with his father and brother.  He couldn’t change that, but he had hopes that they might be able to walk out of this alive.  He had hopes that he’d get to see what life with his father and brother was really like, not just what the last few weeks of training was like.

“John Winchester!”  Samuel’s voice boomed through the upper level and Sam cringed at the volume.

“Yeah, he’s always been the subtle type,” Dean said with a smirk.

They moved without hesitation though, moving into the room at the end of the hall.  Sam remembered it from his visit there, a circular library with books all the way up to the vaulted ceiling.  It was a place that reminded Sam all too much of the life he’d left behind, of library stacks and law school on the horizon.

John pushed the door open, stepping through it without waiting.  “You want a piece of me, Samuel, why all the charades?”

He walked in at John’s left hand side, his brother on John’s right.  The door closed behind them and Sam saw Samuel across the room from them.  Around them, circling them, were seven other assassins that Sam had briefly seen when he came in with Dean.

“Well, well, well, you got them to stop fucking after all,” Samuel sneered.

“Why, you looking for a free show, Gramps?” Sam asked.

“You got a mouth on you, boy.”

John looked at Sam and gave him a crooked smile before looking back at the other man.  “Just like his mother.”

“Don’t you talk about her, Winchester.  Mary was the best of all of us.  If she hadn’t left she’d still be alive.”

“You mean if she hadn’t taken a bullet for me?”  John asked.  “Perhaps you should have thought about that before you sent a man to kill me.”

“What?” Dean’s voice was deathly quiet, the intensity of the one word making his skin crawl.

“I know Sam told you what he found out about Mary,” John said, never taking his eyes off Samuel.  “Her father decided she would be better off in the Fraternity though, than if she stayed married and tried to raise two kids.  He didn’t care that she was happy, or that she had been looking for a way out of that life.  He just wanted her with him.  It took me years to figure it out, and by the time I did I couldn’t do anything about it.  He had his claws all over you and I had to bide my time.  The real question is, why now Samuel?  Why did you bring Sam into it now?”

“Mary called me the day he was born.  She said both her boys were born with it and I knew I had to make sure they joined us.  They have a destiny to fulfill, Winchester.  I thought I lost Sam, but then there you were.  You led me right to him and I knew I had to have him.  Look at him, John.  Tall, strong, and utterly broken where you’d left him.  And we had Dean who was oh so needy.   Dean who would wrap little Sammy up in his arms and turn them into something even I couldn’t have managed.  It was fucking poetic, how broke you made them, and I knew it was time to get rid of you John.”

“Yeah, well you’ve done a bang up job of it.” 

“Time I remedy that then.”

Samuel didn’t have the words out before Dean and Sam both moved.  Sam swung his arm out wide, pulling the trigger and hoped to hell he got this one right. 

The bullet began slicing through the air, spinning with an arc that made its way straight through the skull of the first assassin.  It didn’t stop, the bullet stronger than typical bullets and the propulsion all the more forceful.  It exited the other side of the first’s head and hit the second.  Sam spun around, turning his back on the bullet’s trajectory even as he heard it hitting the second target.  In front of him, Samuel was pulling his gun and John was meeting him head on, but Sam’s eyes were on his brother.  Dean’s gun was in his hand also, the bullet making its way around the room in the opposite direction to his.  They were on a slightly different trajectory but Sam could see where they were going.  He heard bodies hitting the floor around him, their bullets hitting the seventh assassin as they speed through the air, Sam’s angling slightly up while Dean’s angled slightly down.

A shout came from John but Sam ignored it as the bullets moved through the air without anything to impede them, still angling for another target.  Sam jumped on Dean, pushing his brother to the floor but even as they fell through the air he felt the sting of metal.

“Fuck,” he screamed as he landed heavily on his brother’s chest.

“Sammy?”

His shoulder burned like a motherfucker where both bullets had entered his flesh, stopping on impact with one another. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean?  Sam?”  John was stumbling to his knees as he looked down at his sons.

“I’m alright,” Dean said as he pushed Sam off him and onto his back.  “Sammy?”

“I’m okay.  Jesus, you never said it hurt this much to get shot.”

Dean smiled at him, “You can’t be a Winchester unless you get shot at least once.”

“Guess that makes me extra badass, right?  Since I got shot twice at the same time?”

“It doesn’t count if one is your own bullet.”

“Well if you’d gotten out of the way,” Sam demanded.

“How the hell was I supposed to know you were aiming high?  Thought they’d take out the gunsmith together and end the journey.”

“Yeah,” Sam conceded because he’d never shot high before. 

“Come on boys, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Samuel?” Dean asked as he helped Sam up to his feet.

John nodded to the floor behind them and Sam looked over to see the man with a bullet in his head. 

“Looks like we’re just about done here.”

“Just about,” John said with a nod.  “You go take care of Sam and I’ll take care of this.”

“What are you gonna do, John?’ Dean asked.

“Burn it all down.”

Sam just nodded as he let Dean lead him away.  Whatever had happened there, his father needed to finish it on his own.

He and Dean had some plans to take care of anyway, bullet or no.

 

**

 

The sun settled high in the sky, the blue waves beneath parting as Dean’s powerful strokes brought him out of the water.  Sam looked up from his reading to stare at his brother, dripping wet as he sat next to him on the edge of the boat.  He didn’t think he’d ever get use to that sight, his brother dripping wet and half naked.  Surrounded by nothing but water, they could do anything they wanted and Sam smiled at the thought as he ran his hand up Dean’s spine.

Dean shivered with the touch, turning his grin on Sam.  “Sammy, you done reading yet?”

“You done swimming?’

Dean pulled the book from his hands and Sam would have protested the way Dean’s hand left big waterprints on the pages, except that Dean’s lips were pressed to his.  Instead Sam opened up under him, tasting the saltwater on Dean’s tongue.

Dean pressed him back until they were both lying on the front nose of the boat and Sam couldn’t care less that he was getting wet.  Instead, he worked his hands under the waist of Dean’s swim trunks and let his fingers dig into the flesh a little.

“Sammy,” Dean moaned his name against his lips and Sam knew he’d never gotten harder faster. 

“Jesus, Dean,” he whispered in response. 

“You still think this was the best path?” Dean asked.  “Three months of sun and sailing.  You getting tired of it yet?”

Sam laughed as he pulled Dean close.  “I think even a weapon of fate deserves a vacation every once and a while, and just so long as you’re ready to stay with me, I’ll take it.”

“A weapon of fate, huh?”

“Yeah.  Whatever the loom was weaving, whatever future you were working towards, it was fate’s hand that led you there.”

“And now that we’re free of it?”

Sam stretched his body out under his brother’s and smiled at the moan Dean let out at the subtle friction it caused.  “You got me now, Dean.  And if there ever comes a time that fate needs to wield a weapon once again, well, you won’t be doing it alone.”

“So you’re gonna keep me around for a while?”

"Forever, Dean,”  Sam whispered.  “You were fate’s weapon, but it was her choice that gave you to me.  She drove us together and if she ever calls, we’ll be there.  But for now, Fate’s weapon can relax.”  He said kissing Dean.  “Take a break,” he continued as he slowly rolled them over until Dean was pinned underneath him.  “And enjoy the view.”

Dean’s fingers caught in his hair and Sam smiled at the feel of it.  There were no more words between them as Dean pulled his lips back in for a kiss.  Sam let himself be pulled and all he could think about was where his life had taken him and how he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d ever been so worried.  Fuck, he had Dean.  They were weapons of fate, instruments of her divine will, and they were brothers.  There was nothing he couldn’t do, nothing he couldn’t face.  When the morning came they’d pull up the anchor and go where the water took them, trusting to chance and luck to pick their next destination.  It’d worked well for them so far.

After all, they were the weapons of fate.  The world was theirs on a fucking string and they held the scissors. 

 

 


End file.
